Philosophy and creativity entwined

Posts Tagged ‘philosophic hands’

Standing, staring, gazing, gasping, grasping: music was flowing. Music was reigning down upon the people, packed together, breathing, sweating. Lights flashed. Eyes were opened, closed, and quickly adjusted to squinting, just to take full effect of the vibrant colours spread across the room. Combining every inch of dirth bound floor, every freshly made drop of sweat, every note played from the rows of by cheap labor made speakers, there was ecstasy, pure ecstasy, there were revelations.

Revelations. Revelations after revelations, rendering the previous revelations surpassed, behind, and outdone. And with revelations following each other up, one by one, only those lived the most will stand out to the mind they originated from, only those will be lived by, only those will shape the day. With moist, salty, drop like crystals coming from an eye, shaky, uncontrolled movement from a pink, or even just the motion of quickly standing still, they are born, born to be an interlude to the otherwise forgotten ogle at life.

“The only sacrifice needed for peace should be the one of global unconsciousness.” – Musilitar.

What better premise could there be for writing than re-finding your own previous written nonsense. I once made a text document on my computer named ‘My oneliners’, and well: this is the result. It is a for sleep calling, wanting to be grand, and preposterous sentence, longing for some revision, but it has some value. While it may not have much value, let alone to anyone else besides me, it is a long forgotten idea now eagerly sprouting new ideas in the very own brain it originally came from. Ideas more thought out, evolved in some way of humanly speaking, and thus, theoretically, making the ideas more interesting, or at least less humming along with the left behind crowd.
Even this very text will once just be a forgotten idea, or at least a forgotten thought. In the spirit of spring, summer, the rebirth of the earth and all things lurking upon it, it is now a good time to re-open our eyes to the beauty surrounding us, to the mighty, live-giving trees, to the small and always working ants, and even to the humans, killing each other and their surroundings, but at the same time recreating and creating newfound beauty with every thought they spark. And so it is that I would like to have said: ‘Let us…’. And so it is that I did not. And so it is that I did not, because I am not preaching perfect truths, thoughts, or morals, I am simply writing down the words hidden in my body, hoping to scrape off some of those hidden in you too.
The sun is shining bright today. The sun is shining. The sun is shining, even when it rains, or even when it’s clouded.

If my voice could produce a screech so chilling it would make a human’s ear fold inwards, I’d capture it. If my hands could take a pose so unnatural and vile it would make a human’s eye crumble in defeat, I’d capture it. If I could create moments as a contribution to the human mind, the organ of diversion, I’d capture them.
This is a new direction, a new step on the stairway in my brain. Gone is the mildly tried advocation of recycling, and welcomed is the go at capturing moments. From now on, this virtual collaboration of loneliness and thought will be backed up by the graphical treasures this world has to offer: photographs. As I set my very first steps, gently and as least repulsive as I can, I will show you the results of my search for the inconvenient, the unexisting (I am aware that this may not be a fully accepted English word, but I like it too much to not write it), the overlooked and the unthought of moments and images in this vividly living world.

As a very first try at capturing an image that would be worth keeping your eyes on, I took a plant, hung it by the stretchable latex of a rubber band, and saved it.

Read. Read it again. Read it once more, if you’d like to. If it is troublesomely early, or breathtakingly late, then, once more, read it. If you’re braincells refuse to cooperate for whatever reason they recently have come up with, read it again. Read it again, and feel, know, understand: there is nothing to understand.
The incomplexity of unheard analyses manifests itself in a way so shamefully understandable that it would be pure boosting of the human ego I give shelter to, to explain it. In the light of that inexplicably awesome revelation, I shall continue…

First off: life is incredibly wonderful. That is the first and most excitingly important thing I should always remember, even in the times and days I would love to throw myself into an erupting volcano. While it would be excruciatingly painful to deny that a post like this is in essence a way to show drama like a pregnant teenage girl, it still seems fun and fit to post as I’m experiencing a (temporarily) enjoyable state of mind.

There are certain moments in a person’s life that seem to be determinative, determinative in the sense that they could in fact change one’s personality, as if that one moment, that one event, could change what was first looked upon as a given fact. There are people that believe that certain moments in a person’s life can be determinative, determinative in the sense that they could in fact change what they are at that given time. There are things that are said, and by form or content could be determinative, determinative in the sense that they change that what at that moment is considered the truth, whether that truth is truthfully a truth or not. In the end, even if that truth isn’t thruthfully a truth, if the objects and people present at the time decide that the postulated truth is in fact a truth, then it is, at that giving moment in time, a truth.

Moments in a human’s life exist for the purpose of realizing that they do not have to be determinative, to grasp that life is simply an undetermined and undecided concept, a concept serving only the use of being enjoyed, if it needs a use, that is. Moments in a human’s life are there to become conscious of the fact that nothing is absolute, nothing in fact has a purpose or use, and everything once vanishes into little particles of nothing, and yes I am aware that ofcourse that definition would make this text useless, weren’t it for the fact that I enjoyed it, therefore making it useful to me.

That’s where I’ll end my murmuring over the things I value worth murmuring about.

Haven’t we all once thought: “Hey, why don’t I do something with this old pair of shoes?”, and after a few minutes of thinking about it just saying: “Nah, too much trouble”? Well, that’s over now! Painting shoes (in my case leather shoes) is actually very easy and fun, and anyone can do it. When I thought of doing this some time ago I was astonished to see how little help I could find on the internet, and after searching for hours and hours, and finding nothing (Isn’t exaggerating fun?), I just went for it. So to get my blog started and to show that it will be a useful blog, I decided to start off with a little tutorial on painting shoes, I hope you enjoy.